


Collusion

by LilyThistle



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, that eventually gets resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyThistle/pseuds/LilyThistle
Summary: Lisbon steeled herself for what she was about to say. She let her tongue run over her lips, then swallowed, until she finally replied, “I want you to seduce me.”
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 41
Kudos: 179





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I recently started rewatching S1 and I noticed how flirty Jane and Lisbon are with each other, I mean apart from the famous, "I wouldn't seduce you over a meal"-scene. Something happens between them in almost every episode. Also, the theme of seduction plays an important role in lots of episodes during S1. But yeah, Jane saying he wouldn't seduce Lisbon over a meal and then revealing in a deleted section of the script what he would do instead was my main inspiration for writing this. 
> 
> This story has three parts, I had to split it because it was getting too long and I wanted to make it easier to read (so much for writing a short one-shot, I guess). Nothing really explicit happens until Part 3, so if you're not into that, you can still enjoy the first two parts. Also, quick warning, there's a brief mention of child abuse in Part 1.
> 
> Anyway, the title is a poker term (for all of you, including me, who haven't got a clue about poker), and it's a form of cheating where two or more players work together toward a common goal.

“Thanks, Jane.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jane let himself drop onto the chair opposite Lisbon. She turned back to Rigsby, taking a sip from the beer bottle Jane had just brought her.

“You’re really serious?” she repeated the question she had asked Rigsby before Jane had interrupted them.

“Yes,” Rigsby nodded. “I would pay for someone to teach me how to seduce women.”

On the opposite side of the table, Jane chuckled, making both Lisbon and Rigsby turn to him. “All right, give me five dollars and I’ll teach you,” he offered.

“No,” Rigsby declined. “I don’t want to be taught by just anyone; I want a professional.”

“Ouch,” Jane said with a pout, clasping his hand to his chest to cover his heart.

“Someone professional like Arterberry?” Van Pelt, who was sitting to Lisbon’s left, tried to clarify. She hadn’t spoken much all evening, but the bright pink drink she had ordered seemed to give her more confidence at so late an hour.

When Rigsby didn’t answer immediately, Cho said, “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t know.” Rigsby sounded unsure. He glanced at Van Pelt and then at Jane. “The guy knows what he’s doing.”

“What he was doing is illegal,” Lisbon reminded Rigsby in a stern tone of voice.

“I’m not talking about the extortion. I’m talking about all the women he convinced he was in love with,” Rigsby defended himself. “He must have known what he was doing, or he wouldn’t have managed to get so much money. And so much sex,” he added in a lower voice so none of the other people at the bar could hear him.

“He is a creep who was using vulnerable women for his own personal gain,” Lisbon insisted. “A woman in her right mind would never fall for a man like Arterberry. Not even if he is the most charming, handsome, smooth-talking man she’s ever met.”

“Talking from personal experience, are you?” Jane teased her. He had his own beer bottle tugged between his index and middle finger and was swirling its contents around languidly.

Lisbon glared at him, considering if she should dignify this with an answer, then shrugged. “All I’m saying is that some women have standards.”

“So you think your immune to the advances of a man if he doesn’t meet your standards?” Jane asked, one eyebrow raised, looking at her like he already knew the answer and could prove to her she was wrong.

“I’m certainly immune to the advances of a man like Arterberry,” Lisbon nodded.

“No, you’re not,” Jane challenged. He didn’t look at her when he said it, put down the beer bottle instead, trying to act casually, but it was obvious he was trying to provoke her.

Lisbon fell for it. “Excuse me?”

She noticed how Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt were watching them, Cho with the same stoic face as always, Rigsby with interest, and Van Pelt with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“You heard me,” Jane went on. He leaned forward and propped his arms on the table, fully focusing his attention on Lisbon. “If you want to seduce someone, it doesn’t matter what kind of man you are. You can seduce anyone if you know which buttons to push. Arterberry could easily have seduced you had he been a little less sleazy and a bit more boring.”

“Jane,” Lisbon said, a warning in her voice. The conversation was quickly leaving the familiar, case-based issues and strolling into personal territory. If Lisbon couldn’t stand one thing, it was discussing her personal life with her colleagues. It was bad enough she couldn’t hide anything from Jane.

Jane hesitated briefly, before he relented. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re a bit more complicated than that. I think it would be a challenge to seduce you.”

Lisbon felt a blush spread across her cheeks, similar to Van Pelt’s; hers, however, was one of anger, not of embarrassment. “Women aren’t as one-dimensional as you would like us to be.”

“Yeah,” Van Pelt agreed quietly. “Not every woman would sleep with a man she’s just met.”

Jane nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But what about a man she’s known for a couple of months or even years?” he asked.

Van Pelt sighed and pulled a face, thinking hard about this. “If it feels right, sure, why not? But not every woman’s after sex. Some of us are looking for a deeper, more romantic connection.”

“Meh,” Jane made. “Humans want three things: to eat, to sleep, and to –”

“That’s enough, Jane,” Lisbon reprimanded him before he could finish the sentence. She wouldn’t allow him to talk crudely to get a rise out of Van Pelt.

Jane looked at Lisbon with mild interest, while he leaned back and picked up his beer bottle again.

“Rigsby mostly wants to eat,” Cho mumbled to diffuse the tension.

Rigsby opened his mouth to protest, but Lisbon interrupted him too. “Humans as a species are much more complex than Jane wants us to be. Arterberry was so successful because he knew which type of woman would fall for him. That doesn’t change the fact that a woman who is happy and content with her life would never have an affair with him. He would also never pick such a woman as a target for his schemes because he knows it would be a dead end.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed, making Lisbon look at him in surprise. “You, for instance, wouldn’t fall for him because you would be able to sense his reason for seducing you. But what about a man who doesn’t have an ulterior motif? What about a man who seduces you just because he wants to sleep with you? I know that, if done right, you wouldn’t be able to resist that man’s advances.”

Before Lisbon could answer, Van Pelt piped up, “That’s so not true. There are things more important than sex.”

“Not for most guys,” Rigsby interjected.

He immediately looked at Van Pelt apologetically, regretting his rash words, but she ignored the look of remorse on his face. Instead, she turned to him, a fire burning in her eyes that Lisbon had seldom seen.

“Don’t be crude,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “There are also romantic men, men who want to be there for women, take care of them, who aren’t just nice to them because they want to sleep with them.”

Rigsby, however, seemed to have developed a taste for teasing Van Pelt, despite his initial regret. “That’s what we want you to believe,” he said with a wink, “but the truth is we all just want one thing.”

Van Pelt turned to Jane, a pleading expression on her face.

“Rigsby is right,” Jane said quietly. “To most men, a sexual relationship with a woman is more important than a romantic one, especially when they, let’s say, try to pick her up in a bar. That guy over there who’s been staring at you ever since we came in,” Jane pointed at a man in a suit who was sitting at the bar, and they all turned around to look at him, which made him pretend he had just seen a friend so he could walk away, “wasn’t thinking about how nice it would be if he could take you out to dinner, hold your hand while you go for a walk in the park, kiss you goodnight on your porch while fireflies dance around you. He was thinking more … carnal thoughts. But there is nothing wrong with that,” Jane added quickly. “If two adults consent to spending a night together, there is nothing reprehensible or shameful about them giving each other pleasure.”

His eyes were on Lisbon as he said the last sentence, so Lisbon felt the need to object. “There might not be anything shameful about it, but I don’t think that a one-night stand can make people truly happy.”

“It makes some people happy,” Jane contradicted her before taking a swig from his beer bottle, emptying it.

“Would it make _you_ happy?” Lisbon challenged him, determined to get a rise out of him, just as he had been trying to do with her the whole evening.

“I’m not some people,” Jane evaded the question.

“Whatever,” Lisbon gave in, realizing they should probably stop discussing one-night stands because this definitely was too personal. “I still don’t think it’s that easy to seduce someone.”

“I wish it was,” Rigsby mumbled, and everyone turned their attention on him, remembering why they had started talking about this topic in the first place.

“Come on now, Rigsby,” Jane said and slapped his shoulder reassuringly. “You’re a young, good-looking, successful guy. There’s nothing holding you back.”

“It’s not as easy as you want him to think it is,” Lisbon insisted.

Jane nodded. “All right,” he said. He shifted in his chair, straightened his back, and looked at Lisbon with determination in his eyes. “I’m going to prove it to you – name a woman, any woman, and I’ll seduce her.”

“No,” Lisbon declined immediately. She held Jane’s gaze fiercely, showing him she wouldn’t let herself be pulled into one of his little games, especially one that would involve another person who was unaware of his schemes.

“Scared of losing, are you?” Jane provoked her. His eyes looked darker than usual in the dim lighting of the bar, but there was still the spark in them Lisbon knew was a sign of Jane having caught a scent.

“No,” Lisbon said again, slower this time. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to bet on something like that.”

“Because you know you’re going to lose,” Jane prodded.

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. “You know, you’re not the great catch you want everyone to think you are.” She knew that if it really was _her_ choice and she got to pick a woman for Jane to seduce, she would pick someone who could resist him. There were women who were immune to his charm, there had to be.

Jane smiled at her and finally leaned back, taking some of the tension she only now realized had been hanging over them with him. “I never said I was a great catch. All I’m saying is that it’s not so hard to seduce someone if you know what you’re doing.”

“And you know that, do you?” Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back as well. She had forgotten Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt were listening to every word of their conversation. All she wanted was for Jane to admit he was wrong.

“Yes,” Jane answered. “I’d like to think so.”

The cocky smile that lit up his face stirred something in Lisbon, something she couldn’t quite identify, but she knew it had to do with wanting to see him lose. “You know what,” she gave in with a sigh. She was currently drinking her third beer of the evening and knew her judgement was clouded, but she wanted to finally put Jane in his place for once. “Let’s bet. I bet you a month’s salary you won’t be able to seduce the woman I pick.”

There was a clashing sound as Van Pelt knocked over her glass. Rigsby had the biggest smile on his face, while Cho looked taken aback. And then it grew quiet at their table, so quiet that Lisbon could hear snippets of the conversations taking place around them, could hear the rushing sound of beer filling a glass, could hear the country song that was hovering above their heads, adding to the cacophony of the place.

Finally, Jane whistled appreciatively. “You’ve got yourself a bet,” he said, and reached across the table to shake Lisbon’s hand.

Lisbon took his hand into hers and gripped it firmly. “And no tricks,” she reminded him. “I’ll be able to tell.”

Jane huffed. “As if I would need them,” he assured her, sitting back down. “So, who’s the lucky lady?” His smirk made her resolve waver. Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe he did know what he was doing.

“I’ll have to think about it,” she answered, determined to make this as hard for him as possible. “It’s an important decision.”

“All right,” Jane agreed. “Take your time.”

“I will,” Lisbon said with a nod.

* * *

It was still early morning when Lisbon arrived at work the next day. She was feeling exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept at all, but there was some paperwork she needed to catch up on, paperwork that couldn’t wait if they wanted to process Arterberry as soon as possible. She unlocked the door to her office and dropped her bag on the desk, then sat down with a deep sigh.

The conversation she’d had with Jane the previous evening was haunting her. She couldn’t believe she had agreed to the bet, couldn’t believe she had allowed him to get to her like that. But after three beers, his proposal had sounded exciting, thrilling, and she had wanted to do the unexpected for once. But then she had lain awake for two hours thinking about which name to give him, which woman to put in the line of fire, and she had realized she couldn’t think of a single one. Not because she was scared Jane would hurt that woman’s feelings – she knew Jane had scruples, he would stop this game before he could do any real damage – but because the thought of Jane courting (she used this word in her mind because she didn’t want to think his name in combination with the word _seducing_ ) another woman irked her. Jane had looked at women before, had asked them out, and it hadn’t bothered her that much. But thinking about him actually pursuing a woman to have sex with her – a woman Lisbon chose for him – somehow seemed wrong, and made her feel, for the lack of a better word, jealous.

However, surrendering before they had even started wasn’t an option either.

With another sigh, Lisbon stood up again to get herself a cup of coffee from the kitchen. The bullpen, which usually was buzzing with activity, with people talking, shouting, with phones ringing, lay quiet and deserted in semi-darkness. She glanced over to where Jane’s couch stood, only to see him sprawled out on it, his jacket draped across the backrest, his vest open, two buttons on his shirt undone, staring up at the ceiling.

“Morning, Lisbon,” he said quietly, almost as if talking to himself.

Lisbon slowly walked toward him. “Good morning, Jane,” she said casually and tapped against his leg to signal him he should make room for her on the couch.

He sat up and ruffled his hair before yawning.

“Did you sleep here?” Lisbon asked carefully, dropping down next to him.

“It was closest to the bar,” Jane explained.

“You should take better care of yourself,” Lisbon reprimanded him softly, taking in his rumpled shirt, spotting a red mark on his cheek from where his head had rested against the leather.

“I will,” Jane answered. The smirk he had flashed her the previous evening was back. “Something tells me I’ll soon be spending a couple of nights in a comfortable bed … in good company.”

“Jane, about that –,” Lisbon started, but he interrupted her with a groan.

“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I haven’t,” she said quickly, too quickly, knowing it sounded like a lie. “I’ve slept on it, and I think my initial reaction was correct. It _is_ inappropriate for me to pick a woman for you to seduce.”

“I’ve said this before and I will say it again: You are just scared of losing,” Jane told her, scratching his chin. “But if you want to cop out now – I’ll accept the money in cash.”

Lisbon followed the movements of his fingers with her eyes, watching his nails scrape across the stubble on his cheek. “No, I’m not backing down.” She took a deep breath. “I came here to tell you I’ve made up my mind. I have a name for you.”

Jane froze, his hand still on his chin. “Oh?” he made, and Lisbon had to smile at the surprised look on his face.

“Unless you don’t want me to give you one,” she teased. “I know you were secretly hoping for me to back down because you talk big but don’t know how to deliver.”

“We should let the woman you pick be the judge of that.” There was determination written across Jane’s face and he looked at her intently. “Name, please.”

Lisbon steeled herself for what she was about to say. She let her tongue run over her lips, then swallowed, until she finally replied, “I want you to seduce me.”

This time, she had really caught him by surprise. He blinked slowly, his eyes darting to her own, then down to her hands resting on her lap before settling somewhere near her left ear. “What?” he breathed incredulously.

Lisbon couldn’t help but feel proud that she had taken him by surprise like that. Jane often told her she was translucent, she couldn’t keep a secret from him, she couldn’t lie to him. Having caught him off-guard like that made her feel proud of her accomplishment and told her it had been the right choice. She was sure she would be able to win, simply because Jane would be too busy processing the fact she wanted him to seduce _her_.

“This way I can make sure you won’t trick me,” she explained. “The stakes are quite high, after all.”

“Quite,” Jane echoed. Then he pulled a face. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Lisbon nodded, but even she could hear her voice was higher than usual.

“We are colleagues,” Jane reminded her. “This might change that relationship forever.”

Lisbon huffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“Oh, I see.” A smile lit up Jane’s face. “You picked yourself because you think you’ll be able to resist me. Clever.”

“I don’t think so, I know so.”

Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest, her jaw tight, putting up a wall between herself and Jane, who looked very handsome this morning in his rumpled shirt with that mischievous smile on his face. She knew he was right – by picking herself, she had already changed their relationship. There was no denying it; he let his gaze wander from her face down her chest and legs and back up again, making sure she was watching him. Five minutes ago, he wouldn’t have done that. She felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach at the thought where this might lead and had to clench her jaw to remind herself, she would do everything she could to not let Jane win. But when his eyes reached her face again and he held her gaze, she could feel her heart pick up speed and her palms grow sweaty. And he wasn’t even doing anything yet, he was just looking at her, like he had done a million times before. Only it wasn’t like before, it would never be like before again, whether he was successful or not.

“Well then, do your thing,” she challenged, and uncrossed her arms, waiting patiently for him to make his move.

Jane laughed lightly and Lisbon was sure she could actually hear the tension between them shatter. She drew in a sharp breath, relieved the moment had passed, incredulous that she had actually, for a short while, considered the possibility of letting him win. The excuse she had given him for picking herself was flimsy, she knew that, and a part of her wanted – it took her a lot of courage to admit that to herself – to be seduced by Jane, but she was also determined to win, to prove to him that his mind tricks didn’t always work, especially not on her.

“Well,” Jane said, and chuckled. He stood up and softly patted her shoulder. “It doesn’t work like that, Lisbon.”

Then he made his way into the kitchen for a cup of tea, leaving Lisbon behind on his couch, battling conflicting feelings.

* * *

After their conversation on the couch, nothing happened. They were rushing from case to case with hardly a moment to catch their breaths in between. Lisbon’s thoughts were first occupied by a gruesome double murder, then by a wife killing her husband and their three children, and finally by a Jane Doe who was discovered floating in Sacramento River. There wasn’t any time to think about Jane and their bet, and it appeared that Jane, too, had forgotten about it. He was busy solving these cases, busy trying to catch Red John, busy doing God knows what, and even though they worked in the same office, they didn’t see each other much.

After their conversation on the couch, Lisbon hoped Jane would forget about the bet. She didn’t regret agreeing to it anymore, but she was sure she would lose whenever Jane decided to make his move. The few times they met over the following weeks, whether they were alone or around people, there was always a slight edge to their interactions. Sometimes, it was as it used to be – they were keeping a professional distance between them, but there were also moments when they teased each other, when they shared a heartfelt conversation on the car ride back from a crime scene, when Jane bugged her until she stopped the car and let him get ice cream. And sometimes, their hands brushed and instead of moving on with their day as if nothing had happened, Jane would glance at her with a promise in his eyes that made her shiver. Sometimes, he would walk past her closer than necessary, brushing up against her. Sometimes, he would talk to her, his eyebrows raised, his eyes never leaving hers, and it didn’t matter what he was saying, she had a feeling there was something unspoken passing between them, something that didn’t need words to be expressed.

After their conversation on the couch, Lisbon’s every thought that wasn’t directed at a case was circulating around Jane, no matter how much she tried to deny it. She knew it was part of his plan, acting like he had forgotten all about the bet, like nothing had changed between them. It was supposed to give her a false sense of security, to make her think she was safe, so he could strike when she least expected it. And she was ready to let him have a little fun, let this thing play out for a little while longer. She was determined to be strong enough to put an end to it when it went too far. But watching Patrick Jane trying to seduce her was something she didn’t want to miss, even if there was the slight possibility of her losing a month’s salary along the way.

Ten days after their conversation on the couch, Lisbon was working late, finishing up some paperwork, and waiting for a call. She’d had an exhausting day full of difficult interrogations and an arrest that resulted in Rigsby almost getting shot. She knew she had made mistakes and was angry at herself for her own shortcomings, resulting in her shoulders to tense up, followed by a piercing headache that made its way from her neck to her temples. Irritated, she rubbed her eyes, blinked a few times until she could see clearly again, then flinched when there was a knock at her door.

“If you keep avoiding me, that’s cheating,” Jane said, a soft smile on his face. He stepped into her office, then closed the door behind him.

Lisbon watched him walk over to her couch and sit down.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she defended herself, gripping the pen she was holding a little tighter.

Jane made, “Huh,” then crossed his legs and his arms and looked at her with something akin to amusement. “You’ve barely looked at me in weeks,” he observed.

Lisbon knew Jane was right. She had been avoiding him, not consciously, but when she thought back on the days that had passed since she had told him she wanted him to seduce her, she realized it hadn’t just been the cases that had kept her away from him. It had also been his piercing gaze on her every time they came face to face, his soft touch against her wrist whenever he allowed himself the indulgence of being close to her; it had been her inner conflict, too – she wanted him to fail and she wanted him to succeed, and she didn’t yet know which one of these two possibilities would win the battle over the other.

“Well,” Lisbon said, putting her pen down and leaning back in her chair, “we’ve been very busy.” Then she added, closely watching Jane, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Something shifted and she could sense she had hit a spot Jane had been trying to keep hidden from her. He uncrossed his legs and propped his elbows up on his knees, folding his hands, nervously bouncing his left foot. She knew it couldn’t be, but he looked nervous, almost unsure. The thought of him avoiding her on purpose because he too was affected by this bet and didn’t know how to act around her anymore, was so far-fetched it could actually be true.

Oh, this would definitely be fun.

“I know you’re stressed,” Jane said slowly, his gaze on his folded hands, his leg still bouncing up and down, “you carry a lot of tension in your shoulders.”

Lisbon moved her head from side to side, which put a painful strain on the muscles in her shoulders and sent a short burst of piercing pain to her temples.

Jane stood up but didn’t make a move to come any closer. “Do you want me to give you a massage?” he asked carefully.

For some reason, it reminded Lisbon of her high school boyfriend asking her out to senior prom. He had been nervous as well, had kept his distance, had seemed unsure she would accept his invitation. She could sense the same hesitation in Jane now, so she nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

Jane pulled out one of the chairs standing around the small table next to the couch and made an inviting gesture. “Come here then,” he said softly.

Lisbon did as she was told and sat down in the chair Jane was offering to her. He stepped behind her and softly lifted her hair over her shoulder to make room for his hands on her back.

“I can tie it up,” Lisbon offered.

“No, it’s fine,” Jane replied. “Leave it.”

Lisbon tensed in anticipation of the first touch, but no amount of mental strength could have prepared her for the first soft brush of Jane’s thumbs against the nape of her neck. She breathed in with a loud hiss, telling herself it was because the soft pressure of his hands was painful, but she knew it was because the touch was so intimate and intense. Jane acted as if he hadn’t noticed the change in her breathing and began to move his thumbs in small circles across the spot where her neck met her shoulders. It brought relief to her aching muscles and she could feel herself relax. Jane moved on to cup her shoulders and pressed his palms into the spots right above her shoulder blades. His grip was firm, but only so firm he could hold her in place. His ministrations were painful, but with each roll of his hands, the pain lessened and so did Lisbon’s resolve to not let him come too close. Having these hands she had admired for years from afar on her like this was a relief and yet stirred something deep within her that made her ache and strain for more.

Then a small moan escaped her lips.

“That good?” Jane asked, his voice huskier than it had been when he had spoken last.

“Shut up,” Lisbon mumbled, but didn’t make a move to pull away from him. He could tease her all she wanted; what he was doing to her shoulders felt too good to make him stop just to save her face.

Jane hummed in content and continued. He dug his thumbs into the nape of her neck again, using more force than he had before, and Lisbon moaned again, louder this time. She tried to hide it by clearing her throat, but she knew there was no way she would be able to disguise the nature of the sound from Jane.

“ _That_ good?” Jane repeated.

His voice was low and entirely foreign to Lisbon’s ears, and it occurred to her she was about to lose their bet. Jane was far from being that unsure, innocent schoolboy he had pretended to be just a few minutes ago. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she was letting him, aware that this massage could be considered foreplay, even though they were in her office, fully clothed. She tensed up again, trying to decide if she wanted him to continue or not, trying to picture where this would lead, trying to picture the smug smile on his face when she would give in, would open herself up to him, and she wanted to see it, wanted him to look at her in triumph, ready to take his prize, but she also wanted to win, wanted him to admit he had been wrong. Those two sides fought an unrelenting battle in her chest while Jane’s hands continued their work on her shoulders, making her feel good, relaxed, cared for, and she knew suddenly she wasn’t strong enough to decide this. He would have to do it for her.

“You can stop if you want,” she offered.

Jane leaned down, bracing himself against her shoulders, and whispered into her ear, so she could feel his breath ghosting over her skin, “I don’t want to.” He punctuated the sentence with a particularly hard squeeze of her shoulders.

Lisbon’s brain was racing to come up with a good reply, but she found it was impossible. All her energy was focused on keeping herself from moaning a third time. He had definitely sounded aroused, his voice dark, husky, teasing, and she couldn’t believe she was making it so easy for him to win, couldn’t believe she was falling for his tricks. This hadn’t even been a challenge.

Jane straightened his back. “It’s not just your shoulders, is it?”

“Hm?” Lisbon made, closing her eyes, too preoccupied to form a coherent sentence.

Jane let his hands wander higher until they were tangled in her hair, massaging her scalp. Lisbon’s eyes flew open again and she had to realize how wrong she had been. Jane’s hands on her neck had been nothing out of the ordinary, just a casual touch between two friends, but this was something else entirely. Intimate didn’t do it justice. His fingers brushed softly against her hair, his short nails brushed softly against her scalp, and all the while it felt as if his hands brushed softly against her soul, igniting and nurturing a fire deep inside her. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop, but she knew with absolute certainty that if she didn’t end this right now, she would already lose the bet tonight. The fire inside of her turned into something else, kindled by a will to fight, to not make this too easy for him. He was teasing her with touches, words, and sounds, but she too could play at this game, could deny him his reward a little longer.

She reached up with her right hand to grab his wrist, even though it took her all the self-restraint she could muster. “That’s enough,” she said softly, even though everything in her, from the top of her head down to her toes was screaming for her to let him continue.

Jane removed his hands immediately. “Of course,” he agreed.

Lisbon turned around in her chair, prepared to see him full of disappointment or embarrassment, but the gaze she was met with was something she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t the only one who had been affected by what they had been doing. Jane’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes were glazed, and he looked at her with desire, with hunger, with so much longing she wanted to stand up, step into his personal space, and kiss his neck, his cheeks, his mouth until she wasn’t the only one moaning.

But she didn’t do it. He was putting on a show, nothing more; it was a good one, but still a show. And even though his faked longing matched her real one and it would be so easy to let him win and let herself have one night with him, she didn’t do it. Instead, she stood up, nodding her head once.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

* * *

Their next case got too close to Lisbon. Years and years of working in law enforcement had taught her to not let herself be affected by their daily business. Yes, she cared about the victims and wanted to see justice done, but she had to keep her personal life out of it if she wanted to succeed. She managed to do that most days.

But Daryl Hobbs, for some reason, knew exactly what to say to her to make her lose her cool. He was responsible for one of his children getting abducted and, as a result, killed, and he didn’t show a morsel of remorse about it. He only called it the _survival of the fittest_. Lisbon was reminded of her own childhood, of how her own father hadn’t cared for her and her brothers after the death of their mother. He, too, had called it the _survival of the fittest_ once.

As they were arresting Hobbs on the charges of negligence and complicity to murder, he only sneered at them. But when they had him in room 209 ready for interrogation, he showed them a more cunning and evil face.

“Are you aware you could go to prison for neglecting your children?” Lisbon asked him when Hobbs still refused to acknowledge he had done anything wrong.

“Do you have children, agent?” he asked in return, a sneer on his face.

Lisbon didn’t answer him.

“I know you don’t because you wouldn’t be asking me this otherwise,” Hobbs continued. “Children are a chore and a menace, and once they reach a certain age, they should be responsible for themselves. There should be a law for that – as soon as they turn ten, they shouldn’t be their parents’ burden anymore.”

Lisbon couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Luckily, there is a law protecting your children from you, because God knows they need it.”

“I won’t make this easy for you, you know?” Hobbs replied. “You can’t just take my kids away from me.”

“I thought you didn’t want them anyway,” Lisbon said with a shrug.

“They should take care of themselves and I shouldn’t be punished for not looking after them, but they’re not done repaying me for raising them all those years, for letting them live in my house, for feeding them.”

“Mr. Hobbs, one of your daughters is dead because you didn’t look after her. You shouldn’t be allowed near them for the rest of your life.” Lisbon could feel anger building up in her stomach, could feel a stabbing pain in her guts. She would make sure this man would spend the rest of his life locked away behind bars, if it was the last thing she did.

Her opposite only shrugged. “So what? One less mouth to feed.”

Before Lisbon could reply with something she would regret later, Jane leaned forward and fixated his eyes on Hobbs.

“You were neglected yourself as a child,” he observed, his voice completely calm. “This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation.”

“So?” Hobbs was entirely unimpressed.

“It’s interesting you’re completely devoid of compassion.”

“This world punishes people for being weak, Mr. Jane. There is nothing we can do about that. And the sooner we accept it, the better.”

“No, Mr. Hobbs, it’s people like you who punish people who are weaker than them because they suffer from some sort of God complex. Destroying your children’s childhood won’t give you back your own. You are just a tiny, insignificant speck of dust on the world’s surface, and no one would miss you.”

Lisbon glanced at Jane, then back at their suspect. Hobbs was smirking, biting his bottom lip as if he was trying to come up with a good reply to what Jane had just said, and Lisbon decided to diffuse the situation before she had to add assault to Hobbs’ charges.

“Mr. Hobbs,” she said, making the man turn his attention back on her, “it’s not up to you whether you think you should be punished or not. This decision lies in the hands of the courts.”

Mr. Hobbs huffed. “I just hope they’re not as biased as you two are. You, Mr. Jane, have a pretty big God complex of your own, and you, agent, you were abused by your own daddy, weren’t you?” He looked at her with mock concern. “No need to take it up with me.”

Lisbon clenched her jaw.

“My God complex is justified,” Jane said, smirking proudly, to take the attention away from Lisbon. “The same thing can’t be said about you.”

“I am a God to my children,” Hobbs pointed out.

“Only because you force them to treat you like one.” The words were out before Lisbon could stop herself. She would hate herself later for letting Hobbs get to her like that, but he was an itch she could only scratch with by showing him disdain and contempt.

Suddenly, Hobbs was on his feet and walking around the table toward Lisbon. She jumped up as well, ready to restrain him if necessary, but all he wanted to do was move into her person space to threaten her physically. And even though he was a head taller than she was, and twice as heavy, she didn’t let herself be intimidated by him.

“It’s the natural order of things,” Hobbs hissed, his voice low. “It wouldn’t hurt you to take a leaf out of their book.”

Lisbon could feel Jane right behind her and then his hand was on Hobbs’ chest. “I need you to take a step back right now,” he said in a calm voice. Jane’s other hand was on the small of Lisbon’s back, it was just a small touch, but he was offering her reassurance. “If you talk to her like that again, you won’t need to worry about what the courts might do to you.”

Hobbs really took a step back, surprised by Jane’s reaction. Lisbon felt the same way – she had never seen Jane like this. Usually, he hid at the first sign of conflict and let her deal with it. This wasn’t the Jane she was used to, but she was intrigued by him.

Hobbs narrowed his eyes and glared at Jane. “You can’t seriously be threatening me right now.”

“I’m not,” Jane replied, and softly moved Lisbon aside so he could put himself between her and Hobbs. “I’m merely warning you to think very carefully about what you want to say or do next.”

“I don’t think our little Miss Lisbon would approve of what I want to do to you,” Hobbs replied, the smirk back on his face. “You’re lucky she’s here.”

“No, _you’re_ lucky she’s here,” Jane turned Hobbs’ argument against him. “She usually doesn’t let me hurt the people we catch, even if they deserve it.”

“Jane, that’s enough,” Lisbon said in a firm tone of voice. She didn’t need Jane threatening Hobbs if it resulted in a lawsuit against the CBI.

Jane took a step back but kept his eyes on their suspect.

“Yes, that’s a good boy,” Hobbs teased.

Jane only smirked at him and for the first time Lisbon could see a crack in Hobbs’ exterior. He had counted on being able to provoke Jane to do something he would regret, like disobeying Lisbon’s orders and punching him, but it wasn’t working.

“We’ve heard enough from him, don’t you think?” Jane asked Lisbon, acting as if Hobbs was invisible.

“Yes,” Lisbon agreed. “I think it’s time for our ways to part.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Hobbs protested, but then Rigsby pushed open the door, put him in handcuffs, and led him away.

“You okay?” Jane asked softly as soon as they were alone, his hand once again resting on Lisbon’s back, looking at her with concern.

“Yes,” she answered and had to realize she really was.

* * *

“I want us to go out for drinks tonight.” Jane was lying on the couch in Lisbon’s office, his nose buried in a book titled “Modern Man in Search of a Soul”.

For once, they weren’t working on a case; they had closed their last one two days ago. There was no occasion for his proposal; there was nothing to celebrate.

“Sure,” Lisbon agreed, looking up from her computer screen, her eyes only gradually adjusting to the dim light in her office after staring at the brightness of it all day, “I’ll ask the team.”

Jane put his book aside and sat up. “No,” he said. “I want _us_ to go out for drinks tonight, just the two of us.”

“Oh?” Lisbon made. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she wasn’t as calm on the inside as she made Jane believe. “Sure,” she said again. “Just let me finish up here.”

It was obvious to her now why Jane wanted to go out, and she could feel herself panic. She had managed to elude his advances ever since the night he had given her a massage, and she had expected him to continue to dance around her until they both came to a silent understanding to forget about the bet. Him asking her out this boldly hadn’t been an option she had considered.

“All right,” Jane said, and went back to his previous reading position.

Lisbon tried to turn back to the report she was writing, but she found herself unable to focus on it. She could choose when she was ready to leave, which gave her a bit of leeway to prepare herself mentally for the rest of the evening, but she had already failed miserably at not letting Jane come too close once, so she was sure she would fail again, especially when he was taking her out for drinks. Sitting next to him in a crowded bar, their legs brushing beneath the table, the buzz of alcohol clouding her judgement would make it impossible to keep Jane away from her.

But did she want to?


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was what it was like to be seduced by Patrick Jane. He was more direct than she had expected, but then again, why wouldn’t he be? He always took the shortest route possible to achieve his goals, so why not also with this? And it was working. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe what he was saying was true, that he really thought about her in such a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bar in Sacramento called the Shady Lady Saloon, which I think is a very sexy fun fact.

Jane took Lisbon to a dimly lit bar that was just a short drive away from the CBI. He held open the door for her, walked her to a secluded booth, his hand never leaving the small of her back, then asked her what she would like to drink and got it for her. He acted like a gentleman, and Lisbon was enjoying the attention, even though she scrutinized every move he made, careful not to let him come to close again.

She had come to a decision: She wanted to have fun tonight, she wanted to tease him like he always teased her, and if it led to them ending up in bed together, she was okay with that. If not, it was also something she could live with. Technically, it was cheating, she knew that; she was supposed to play hard to get, and not fall into Jane’s arms. But she wanted to make this hard for him anyway, wanted to see how far she needed to go and what she needed to do so he would lose his cool. And she wanted to find out if he had only pretended to be aroused when he had given her a massage or if she really could do that to him. Because if she held that power over him, she would find a good way to use it.

Jane came back with their drinks, a Bloody Mary for Lisbon, an Old Fashioned for himself and sat down on the bench next to her, keeping a polite distance between them. It was awkward at first. Lisbon hadn’t expected it to be; she had thought Jane would be suave and smooth-talking, like he always acted when they were around other people. But he was quiet when it was just her, absorbed in his own thoughts, nursing his drink without looking directly at her. She watched him for some time out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was thinking about, until she decided to take matters into her own hands.

She slowly took off her jacket, watching his eyes dart to her arms as she did so, and made “Hm,” in a thoughtful tone of voice, then took a slow sip from her drink. She didn’t look at Jane directly when she continued, “So this is the great Patrick Jane seducing someone. Didn't you say you would never do that over a meal?”

She was referring to a conversation they’d had a few years ago, back when they really had been just colleagues, not friends. She had listened to Jane making a reservation at a restaurant, and he had teased her about getting her hopes up, wishing he would seduce her. Only back then she hadn’t thought about it, despite him insisting she had. Those thoughts had only started to preoccupy her mind about a year later, and even then just sporadically. Now that it was finally happening, she had to discover she had overestimated Jane and his abilities in that area.

Jane finally looked at her. He leaned back on the bench, then mustered her face, posture, and body language. Lisbon forced herself not to move or look away, to hold his gaze whenever his eyes wandered to hers, but it was increasingly difficult to do so. Then she remembered she had intended to not make this too easy for him and to tease him in turn, so she returned his gaze, allowing her eyes to linger on his neck, on his hands holding his drink, even shortly on his mouth, wondering if she would find out tonight what it would be like to feel these lips against her own, against her skin.

“First of all,” Jane said finally, “this isn’t a meal. And second of all, who says I’m seducing you?”

His voice was low again, not as low as it had been when he had given her the massage, but she knew he was making himself sound like this on purpose because he thought it would be seductive. She had yet to decide if it was working.

Lisbon took another sip from her drink, then blinked slowly. “If you don’t want to win anymore, you can give up now and save us both the trouble,” she replied.

This earned her a smirk, not his usual one she had come to know over the years, but one that she had a feeling he reserved for an occasion such as this. “Why would I want to give up when I’m winning?” he asked her.

His cockiness and confidence that had put them both in countless difficult and dangerous situations in the past and which had so often annoyed Lisbon was suddenly alluring to her, something that intrigued her whenever he let it show. He _was_ good at this, she had to admit that, even if it had taken him a while to get started. But now he was actually trying, Lisbon found it increasingly hard to resist him.

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re winning?”

Jane put down his glass, and the light caught in his curls, making it look briefly like they were on fire. Lisbon was mesmerized. When Jane caught the way she was looking at him, his smile only widened.

“Well, you’re here with me, alone, drinking, …” he listed. “You could have said no to me asking you out, you know, but you’re really not as opposed to this as you think you are.”

Lisbon wasn’t opposed to it at all, but she couldn’t tell him that. It would mean she was forfeiting; they had been at the bar no longer than a quarter of an hour and had only exchanged a few sentences. This wasn’t a seduction, this was a normal, albeit intimate conversation between two friends. No, Lisbon wanted to make this interesting, for the both of them. To succeed, she had to put up a wall, she had to become a riddle Jane needed to crack, a puzzle he needed to solve.

She put down her glass as well and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a visualization of the challenge she wanted him to face. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she told him in the firmest voice she could muster.

Jane only laughed softy. “I know you can do better than that, Lisbon,” he told her. He was seeing right through her. “You think you made this hard for me by choosing yourself, but you’ve made it so much easier than it could have been. I _know_ you.”

Lisbon huffed. “And I know you,” she told him. “I know all about the little tricks you use to get into people’s heads.”

“I don’t need a trick to achieve that with you.”

The cocky smile was back, and it was igniting a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She also crossed her legs.

“I’m already in there,” Jane continued, “have been for years.”

“Because you’re a pain in the ass,” was Lisbon’s reply. “You make me worry about you constantly. I need to get you out of trouble constantly. Of course I’m also _thinking_ about you constantly.”

“Lisbon, I never knew you cared.” Jane was moving a tiny bit closer to her, no more than an inch or two, but he was moving closer. “You think about me constantly then?”

“Not in the way you want me to,” Lisbon assured him.

Jane dropped his voice half an octave. “And what way is that?” he asked.

Lisbon took a deep, steadying breath, then uncrossed her arms. It was time she fought back. “I know you want me to lie in bed thinking about you, wondering where you might be, wishing you were beside me,” she said slowly, trying to keep her voice low to match his.

“I want no such thing,” he replied.

This caught Lisbon by surprise. “No?” she asked, her voice back to its normal pitch.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” Jane’s voice, on the other hand, was getting deeper with each sentence. “There’s no use wishing you would think about me that way when I know you’re already doing it.”

“You wish!” Lisbon wanted him to believe this assumption was ridiculous. And it was; she didn’t lie in bed thinking about him, at least not until recently.

“Would it surprise you if I told you I sometimes lie in bed thinking about you?”

Lisbon hated how he always managed to catch her by surprise. “You do?” she asked, their little dance completely forgotten at hearing this.

“Of course,” Jane assured her. “Especially these last few weeks after you asked me to seduce you.”

Lisbon caught herself in time to ask, “And what do you think about?”

“All sorts of things,” Jane answered. “Mostly everyday stuff, small occurrences I want to remember, like a shirt you wore or a sentence you said. I sometimes think about how I can make you blush with just the smallest of touches.” He touched her wrist briefly to prove his point. “I think about the way you talk, about how you sometimes get all authoritarian with me. I like that.”

“Come on,” Lisbon interrupted him, determined not to let him make fun of her like that.

“I’m serious, Lisbon,” he said and by the way he looked at her, she was tempted to believe him. “You hold a power over me, and you don’t even know it. You make me want to be close to you.” He moved closer to her, so their arms were almost touching, his actions an extension of his words. “And sometimes when I think about you, I allow myself to imagine just that – what it would be like to _be_ close to you in a way no one else is, to see a side of you no one else gets to see, to make you lose yourself in sighs and moans and touches.”

So this was what it was like to be seduced by Patrick Jane. He was more direct than she had expected, but then again, why wouldn’t he be? He always took the shortest route possible to achieve his goals, so why not also with this? And it was working. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe what he was saying was true, that he really thought about her in such a way.

Lisbon’s eyes darted to Jane’s lips, just for a fraction of a second, but he noticed.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking the same,” he said slowly, deliberately placing his hand on the bench between their legs, so his fingertips were brushing against Lisbon’s thigh. “You can’t tell me I’m not affecting you the same way you affect me.”

It sounded almost like a plea, and Lisbon was close to admitting that, yes, she had thought about him once or twice in a way you weren’t supposed to think about your friend, but something was holding her back, something she hadn’t known was slumbering in her until this moment when Jane’s gaze promised her the world if she just said yes. She wanted to see him squirm for a little while longer, even if it would cost her a lot of strength.

“No,” she said with a shrug, trying to sound casual.

Jane removed his hand immediately, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. She snorted at seeing the shocked look on his face, the disbelief at being rejected like this. It made her open her mouth again, the start of the sentence “I’m messing with you,” already on the tip of her tongue, when he huffed in contempt.

“Oh, come on, I know you’re bluffing.”

There was uncertainty in his voice, which Lisbon found endearing. It was bizarre to see him like this, but this bet had led to some strange situations between them and had shown her sides of him she didn’t know he had. It was making her fall for him faster than his flirting.

She picked up her glass again and took her time drinking from it. “I would never cheat,” she told him, making sure he was looking at her when she said it. She wanted to trick him, wanted him to believe it, wanted him to think she could really resist him.

But Jane caught himself quickly and was already leaning in closer again, his voice a teasing low rumble when he said, “Pretending you don’t want me is cheating.” To prove he was right, he glanced at her lips and it had the desired effect.

Lisbon was blushing.

“I don’t _want_ you.” Her voice was high when she said it. _Oh God_ , she wanted him, she wanted him so much she could feel her resolve slipping through her fingers, could feel the tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach become more insistent, urging her to close the distance between her and Jane.

And he could see right through her, could read her thoughts like she was an open book. “Thanks for confirming it for me.”

This pulled her back from the edge. “You think you’re the master of seduction,” she told him, “but you haven’t made a single move on me yet.” This was another lie, but she wanted to see how far she could go.

This time, Jane didn’t let himself be blindsided by her. “Haven’t I?”

He knew exactly what he had been doing, and she knew it too. She would have to be a fool not to see it. It was the first time Jane could see right through her lie, could see right to the bottom of her heart, and suddenly realized she was trying to tease him, to make him doubt he was succeeding in seducing her.

“All is fair in love and war,” he added.

To Lisbon’s ears, it sounded as if he was challenging her to a battle of wills. “Well, it’s a long way from flirting with a woman to her agreeing to come to bed with you.” In Lisbon’s case, that particular way wasn’t very long at all, but Jane didn’t need to know that.

Jane raised his hand again and put it on Lisbon’s bare arm, stroking her softly. She had guessed he would try something like this during the course of this evening, but she hadn’t been prepared for the feelings it would invoke in her. The tingling sensation was starting its descent to its new home between her thighs, as the thought of him leaving it at this soft touch or even stopping what he was doing became increasingly unbearable with each passing second.

His next sentence, however, dissipated her worries.

“Would you like that? Would you like to come to bed with me?” he asked her.

It was the sexiest thing she had ever heard him say, and she knew there was no way she could resist him any longer. From this moment onward, she would let him know how much she wanted him. He had won, and it hadn’t even been difficult, but she didn’t care about that anymore. All she cared about was him fulfilling the promise he had just made. His hand closed around her wrist and she knew he was taking her pulse. For some reason, this simple gesture turned her on even more and when his eyes lit up in triumph at feeling her rapid heartbeat, her breath caught in her throat.

“Would you like to know what these hands could do to you?” he asked her, resuming the agonizing torment of her over-sensitive skin.

It would be so easy to stop fighting, but she wanted to see him flustered too, wanted to test her theory, to find out if she really had such a strong hold over him as he claimed she had.

Lisbon moved closer to him and raised a hand to languidly play with the collar of his shirt. “Well, if it’s half as impressive as what they can do with a pack of cards, I’m _very_ interested,” she assured Jane. It wasn’t a lie; she was burning to find out, desperate to feel his hands on her.

As a response, Jane swallowed, filling Lisbon’s with a feeling of triumph. It really was true; she had the same effect on him as he had on her. This newfound knowledge spurred her on – it wasn’t just she who was at his mercy, he was at hers, too. And she would make use of that.

Jane’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What’s finding out worth to you?” he asked her. “Would you be willing to lose the bet?”

Lisbon had hoped he would ask her something like that because she had already prepared an answer. “I’m not sure I’d consider that losing.”

Jane huffed, but it didn’t sound as dismissive as he would have liked it to sound. There was a small waver in his voice, almost like a sigh. “You kind of did a 180 there,” he observed. “You went from ‘I don’t _want_ you’,” he said it in a high-pitched voice, imitating Lisbon, “to ‘oh, please, Patrick, take me’.”

Jane’s impression was an exaggeration, its goal was to taunt her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Her hand, which was still resting against his collarbone, started a slow descent down his chest, across the two layers of clothing that were keeping her from touching his skin. His eyes flickered for a moment, unsure if they should follow her hand, but in the end, he decided to keep them locked on Lisbon’s gaze instead.

“I don’t think you’re _that_ good, _Patrick_ ,” Lisbon said slowly, feeling him shiver beneath her touch, enjoying the effect the use of his first name had on him. She leaned forward, bracing her hand against his chest, and whispered. “But do your worst.”

Jane shifted in his seat and Lisbon could feel his breath hitch. “Jesus, woman,” he sighed.

Lisbon felt like it was she who had won the bet, not him. She moved in even closer until she could see the light dusting of stubble on his cheek, could feel it against her own when she put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, “Would you like to take me home, Patrick?”

Then she leaned back and looked at him reassuringly. He needed to know she was serious about this, needed to know she really wanted this, because it would be just like him to back down now. He was always so anxious not to hurt her.

But he smirked and nodded. “Yes,” he agreed.

That simple word held so much promise a shiver ran down Lisbon’s spine.

They didn’t even finish their drinks. Instead, Lisbon pulled on her jacket while Jane stood up, then waited for her next to their table. The look on his face was indecipherable, but his eyes were dark with arousal and that was enough for Lisbon. There was a distance between them now; Jane’s hand wasn’t on her back anymore, as it had been when they had walked into the bar, and when he opened the door, he walked out first, then held it for her, making sure they weren’t touching. Lisbon was glad because she knew that if she felt his skin against hers now, they wouldn’t make it back to her place. Instead, they would have to pull into the parking lot of the nearest motel and get a room.

Lisbon had never felt like this before, so eager and on edge. She enjoyed sex, yes, but she wasn’t too fond of the buildup; she preferred to get it over with and not waste hours and hours on teasing her partner and getting teased until they both ached with longing. But this game between her and Jane had been so much fun she was almost sad it was coming to an end. Still, there was much she could look forward to, at least until the sun rose again, because she wasn’t planning on getting much sleep, not when Jane was coming home with her.

The bet was forgotten. She didn’t care she had lost; all she cared about was the man next to her in the car, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white, glancing at her from time to time, a soft smile on his face. And then it hit her: It wasn’t just because Jane was so good at flirting that she was feeling this way about him. It was also something else, something deeper than that. She had feelings for him, feelings that went beyond friendship, that went beyond enjoying the time they spent together. This was a dangerous new development, one that could ruin their relationship much quicker than a one-night stand. She shifted in her seat to look out of the window instead, thinking about this, knowing they were already close to her house – she had to come to a decision now. Should she let Jane follow her into her bedroom, knowing full well about the turmoil this would entail, or should she tell him she had changed her mind?

When Jane pulled up in front of her house, she still hadn’t made up her mind. She opened the passenger door and got out, but Jane remained seated, the engine running.

His actions, or rather lack thereof, confused her. “Aren’t you going to come inside?” she asked, annoyed at herself for sounding so disappointed.

“I’m not done yet,” Jane said slowly. He was staring at the road ahead, avoiding her gaze. “I promised you I would seduce you, and I’m not done with that yet.”

Then he drove off, leaving a confused and startled Lisbon behind.

* * *

Lisbon felt disappointed and more than slightly worried. Jane had gone from staring at her like she was the only woman in the world to abandoning her in front of her house without saying goodbye. She couldn’t fathom what had changed his mind during the short car ride, if it had been something she had done or if his own doubts had won. A small part of her was thankful they hadn’t ended up in bed together, because it gave her time to consider these new feelings for Jane she had discovered and come to a decision on how she wanted to proceed. Maybe Jane had somehow felt her uncertainty, maybe he had found a morsel of it within himself.

Or maybe what he had used as an excuse was true. Lisbon had no idea why he would feel this way, why he wanted to prolong this torture he was subjecting her to, was subjecting them both to, but when she arrived at work the next morning and found him sitting on the couch in her office, looking like he had done the morning she had agreed to let herself be seduced by him, she realized there must be some truth to it.

Spotting her, he stood up and stretched, then slowly walked toward her and said, “Good morning.”

“You know, you could have slept in my bed instead of on my couch at work,” Lisbon caught herself saying.

Jane stopped in front of her. “Are you sure this is how you want to play it?” he asked her, his voice barely a whisper. They were both aware they weren’t alone, their colleagues were behind Lisbon’s office door, starting another day at work.

“How I want to play what?” Lisbon asked innocently, letting her gaze wander to the hollow of Jane’s throat.

“It’s morning,” Jane stated the obvious. “I thought saying these things to me was reserved for a darker time of day.”

“Why? Is it distracting you?” Lisbon asked, stepping around Jane to get to her desk.

Jane shook his head. “No,” he answered nonchalantly. “I had expected you to be … embarrassed, or flustered at least, acting as if yesterday evening –”

Lisbon interrupted him. “Is that the reason why you slept on my couch? Why you were waiting here for me? To make me blush and stammer?” She laughed lightly, but there was a cold edge to it. “No, Jane, I won’t give you the satisfaction. I stand by what I said. If you’re still interested, that is.”

There was no flirty undertone in her voice, no teasing. She needed him to realize she was serious.

Jane’s demeanor changed. He took a step back and straightened his back. “Lisbon,” he said slowly, “are you absolutely sure?”

He had asked her this once before, on a morning very similar to this one and altogether different. “Sure I’m sure,” she repeated her previous reply. This time, there was no hesitation in her voice, no high pitch.

Jane bit his bottom lip like he always did when he was looking at the evidence at a crime scene. Then he nodded. He walked back to the couch, rolling his sleeves down on the way, then buttoned up his vest and pulled on his jacket.

Fully dressed, he turned to her. “All right.” Then he left, without another word.

Cold dread filled Lisbon. She stood frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to think about anything other than what had just happened. She hadn’t expected him to walk away like this, and a part of her wanted to run after him and take it back. It was obvious he didn’t want the same thing she wanted, despite agreeing to the bet. Now that he had succeeded, he had lost interested in her. Lisbon felt foolish, she felt angry with herself. She had no idea how she could have misread him like this. And yes, she finally was embarrassed, embarrassed about opening up to him, about letting him come close to her, about wanting him in a way she couldn’t have him.

All morning, she was on edge; she snapped at Rigsby for dropping a pen, she lost her patience with Van Pelt, and every time she spotted Jane, she turned around and walked in the opposite direction. She finally knew why Jane had asked her if she really wanted to be seduced by him, if she knew what it would mean – he had meant this, things getting awkward between them, and she regretted telling him she would be able to handle it. She wasn’t handling it.

Around lunch time, she was in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. It was always quiet in the office around midday, so she heard Jane’s footsteps before he made his presence known by clearing his throat.

“Lisbon, I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Without turning around, she replied, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” Jane continued, ignoring her objection. “Would you please look at me?”

Lisbon sighed and turned around. He wasn’t standing as close to her as she had expected; he lingered on the edge of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, a tentative look on his face.

“I shouldn’t have let it come this far,” he continued. “And I am truly sorry for it.”

Lisbon swallowed. “How do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re important to me,” he continued. “I know I shouldn’t want these things you’re offering me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lisbon felt her heart clench painfully and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself, to keep down the disappointment she was sure Jane could see written all over her face nevertheless. “You’re not going to lose me just because,” she lowered her voice, worried someone might overhear them, “just because we’re … sleeping together,” she finished lamely.

“Your friendship means too much to me to ruin it for something like that,” Jane insisted.

Lisbon dropped the teaspoon she had used to stir sugar into her coffee into the sink with a loud bang. “I want you to ruin it.”

“Lisbon.” It sounded like it was causing him pain to say her name.

The irony didn’t escape her. She was supposed to be the one telling him to stop, he was supposed to be the one pursuing her. Their positions had reserved. He was holding back now, denying her what she wanted most, while she was the one pining for him.

“I should never have agreed to this,” he went on. “It was supposed to be a game, not … this.” He made a vague gesture between them. “Lisbon, can you forgive me?” he pleaded.

“For what?” she asked with a heavy sigh. “For caring about me? For having to be such a goddamn gentleman about it?”

Jane pulled a face. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

“You were the one who said he could seduce any woman,” Lisbon reminded him. “And I want to be seduced by you, Jane.”

This wasn’t a conversation they were supposed to be having in the middle of the communal kitchen at work, but here they were, Lisbon glaring at Jane, Jane watching her sadly in turn.

“You would’ve slept with me,” he pointed out. “I won. I seduced you. That’s enough for me.”

Lisbon snorted. “It’s not enough for me.” She wanted Jane to realize it was a big step for her to admit something like this, and by the way his eyes lit up, she thought he understood. For a few blissful seconds she thought she had convinced him, she thought she had gotten through to him, but then he turned away.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Jane turning his back on her was becoming a habit she detested.

* * *

They didn’t speak for a week after this. Lisbon was hurt and disappointed, but she could understand Jane’s reasons. And he was probably right: It was better this way. If Lisbon’s heart felt this broken after barely anything had happened between them, it wasn’t a good idea to continue down the path their relationship had taken recently.

But she hated how Jane acted around her. He barely looked at her, only said a few words to her when they were with other people and walked away as soon as they were alone. Lisbon had no clue what he was punishing her for because she never again addressed the subject after their conversation in the kitchen. There was no reason for him to avoid her. And yet he did, hiding from her in his room in the attic, taking his own car to crime scenes. Lisbon tried to swallow her sadness as best as she could, tried to ignore her broken heart, tried to move on with her life.

When Tommy called her one day, telling her he and Annie were in town, asking her if she wanted to go out to dinner with them, she readily agreed, glad for the distraction. She wouldn’t confide in her brother or niece of course – just like she didn’t discuss her private life with her colleagues, she didn’t discuss her professional life with her relatives (and Jane wanted to be her colleague, so he correlated with the second realm) – but she would enjoy an evening where she didn’t sit at home alone, cursing Jane.

Lisbon, being the practical woman she was, kept a black dress in her desk at work for just such an occasion, so she wouldn’t have to waste time going home to change. Instead, she finished a telephone call and some emails before getting out of her shirt and trousers and putting on the dress. It was tighter than she remembered, and she struggled reaching the zipper at the back to close it. When Jane opened the door to her office without knocking, he found her in a knotted position, one hand reaching down her back, the other at the bottom end of the zipper, clasping the fabric tightly.

“Lisbon, there’s –,” Jane started, but fell silent when he saw her.

Lisbon blushed bright red, mostly because she was angry with him for never knocking before coming into her office, but also because she didn’t want him to see her like this. “It wouldn’t hurt you to knock,” she snapped at him.

“I – um …,” Jane stammered, then made a vague gesture at the door, hitting his hand on the door frame because his eyes were still on Lisbon. He flinched. “Ouch!”

“Either you’re helping or you’re leaving,” Lisbon told him icily, hiding her conflicting feelings behind a wall of anger, trying to ignore how Jane’s eyes were turning dark. It only brought back memories of their evening at the bar.

Jane stepped into her office, then closed the door. He walked to her, and very slowly started to close the zipper, his fingers brushing along her bare back. Lisbon refused to shudder at the contact, refused to expose herself like that.

“Thanks,” she said once Jane was done.

“Where are you going?” Jane wanted to know, trying to sound casual.

Lisbon considered telling him it was none of his business, but then she decided to hurt him like he had hurt her. “I have a date,” she answered.

“Oh,” Jane made. “Well, you look lovely. He’s a lucky guy.”

“He is,” Lisbon agreed.

A shadow passed over Jane’s face.

“Did you want anything in particular?” she asked him.

“I …” Jane hesitated, and she could see him swallow before he continued. “I’m taking a few days off.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Not exactly.”

“Whatever you’re doing, have fun.” It sounded cold, but she didn’t care. Jane didn’t get to push her away, only to stroll into her office when she was in a vulnerable position to stare at her like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She couldn’t care less where he was going and if he told her about it.

Without another word, she picked up her bag and left Jane standing in her office, making him look like the fool for once.

* * *

Three days later, Lisbon was sitting cross-legged on a bed in a motel close to the Mexican border, still wearing her shirt and trousers, a case file on her lap, a bottle of water in her hand, a storm raging outside, rain hitting the roof in a loud cacophony. She was going over the case again and again, walking in circles. A man had been found in his car, shot dead, all windows closed, doors locked from the inside, and yet it was murder because they hadn’t found the weapon, not in the car nor in the sand around it. Whatever had happened remained a mystery to Lisbon.

Jane hadn’t come with them because he still hadn’t come back into work. Lisbon hadn’t seen him since the night she had met Tommy and Annie, and he hadn’t called her, texted her, given her any sign he was still in the country, was still alive. They hadn’t parted on the most amicable of terms, and Lisbon knew from experience that Jane liked to disappear like that, but after her initial anger had abated, it had been replaced by concern. She didn’t like not knowing where Jane was, especially after a fight. If something happened to him, she would blame herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Come in, Cho!” she shouted so he would hear her over the rain.

The knock persisted, and she sighed before she stood up and walked over to the door. She pulled it open and found herself not face to face with her colleague, but with Jane.

She didn’t recognize him at first. He was wearing only a shirt, no jacket or vest, and it was drenched from the short walk from his car to her door. His hair was sticking to his head, water was running down his cheeks, and his chest was heaving, like he had just run five miles.

“Jane,” Lisbon said breathlessly, taking a step back to let him inside.

Jane accepted the invitation and followed her, closing the door behind him

“What’s going on?” Lisbon asked, forgetting to be angry with him. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Jane answered, trying to dry his face with the equally wet sleeve of his shirt.

“Wait,” Lisbon told him and rushed to the bathroom to get him a towel.

Jane dried his hair as best as he could, then pressed the towel against his face and groaned.

“Are you all right?” Lisbon repeated, extending a hand toward him, but not touching him.

She had no idea what could have made him come see her 500 miles south of Sacramento, during a heavy storm, after avoiding her for more than a week. Something had to be very wrong for him to turn up on her doorstep like that. She bit her lip, dreading his reply, bracing herself for what he had to say.

Jane lifted his head and dropped the towel on a chair next to him. He looked disheveled, tired, and angry. His eyes were dark, his face was set, and when he finally spoke, his voice was raw.

“This was supposed to be a game,” he said.

Lisbon froze and held her breath.

“I wanted to forget you,” he went on, “but I can’t get you out of my head. I need to be able to focus, I need to catch Red John, but every time I’m alone with my thoughts, they keep coming back to you.”

“Jane –”

He raised his hand to signal her to be quiet. “I’m not done.”

Lisbon waited with bated breath, her heart beating uncomfortably hard against her rip cage. He had some nerve showing up here like this, but she didn’t throw him out right away because she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted him to admit he had made a mistake.

“I forced myself to stay away from you, hoping I would regain some control,” he continued. “But then you …” He groaned again, but because he didn’t have a towel to bury his face in this time, he pressed his knuckles to his eyes. “But then you went on a _date_ , not even a week after saying all these things to me that I keep replaying in my head, these things that … I lie awake at night thinking about them, thinking about _you_ next to me in that bar, asking me to take you home.”

“Jane, it wasn’t –,” Lisbon started again, but he was still not done.

“If you wanted to make me jealous, congratulations! It worked.”

His voice sounded spiteful, making her flinch. If he had come here hoping for an apology after it had been _him_ who had turned _her_ away, he was hoping in vain.

Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest. “It’s none of my business what you think about.”

Jane took a step closer, but there was still enough room for her to evade him if she chose to. “You’re all I think about, so yes, it is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want –”

But this time it was Lisbon who had more to say. “You told me you didn’t want to sleep with me, and I respect your decision. I tried to move on because I wanted us to have a normal relationship again. So this really isn’t my fault. If you came here looking for an apology –”

“An apology?” Jane interrupted her. He took several quick steps toward Lisbon and she couldn’t help increasing the distance between them again. “No, I don’t want an apology.”

“What do you want then?” Lisbon asked.

Something shifted. The storm outside grew even louder; the wind howled, making the door to Lisbon’s room rattle. And inside, where it was dry yet dim, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Jane smiled, a look in his eyes that made her shiver. “I know I can’t expect anything from you, I don’t have any right to ask this … but I can’t ignore this thing between us any longer.”

Lisbon raised her eyebrows in an inquisitive look, knowing that this was probably the right moment to ask him to leave, but finding herself unable to say the words. The tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach she had come to associate with Jane was back, taking over every sane thought she might have formed.

“I want to get this out of my system,” Jane admitted.

“Oh?” Lisbon made. “Is that what this is? Because if you think –”

Jane interrupted her again – it was becoming a habit. “No. I … do you want to know why I didn’t come home with you that night? Why I’ve been keeping away?”

“Yes,” Lisbon said sternly. “Tell me. I think I deserve to know.”

“I was counting on your competitiveness,” Jane explained. “I was counting on you wanting to win this bet. But then you …,” he paused and let his eyes wander from the top of her head over her chest down to her bare feet, “then you were so different from what I had expected and I realized I wanted you.”

He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Lisbon.

“I still want you.” His voice was low again, like it had been in the bar. “But it scares me. It scares me how much I want you. It scares me what this might mean. I’m afraid … I know once we start, I won’t be able to stop. That’s why I had to walk away.”

But it hadn’t been enough to keep him away from her because here he was, panting, eyes wide, a flush on his cheeks, and she knew it was in her hands now, it was on her to accept what he was offering or turn him away.

Lisbon took a deep breath, coming to a decision. “You’re very confident,” she said slowly, trying to make her voice sound like it had sounded in the bar, low and husky and full of want. “Who says I would think you’re that great? Maybe I’d get bored with you quickly.”

Jane exhaled, and it sounded so relieved it momentarily threw her off. But then he was right in front of her, so close she could see his chest through the damp fabric of his shirt, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and then he came even closer, invading her personal space, so she took a step back, pressing her back against the wall of her motel room, not hearing the rushing sound of rain, the door flying shut somewhere outside, the car backfiring. All she heard was Jane’s breathing and the four words he said to her in a voice he had never used before, a voice so full of longing, so full of seduction that she was sure it only stopped being a game right at this very moment.

“I want you, Teresa.”

Lisbon’s eyelids fluttered and there was a hitch in her breathing. Jane looked smug, his eyes darting between her eyes and her lips.

“And I can see you want me too,” he added.

With her last bit of strength, Lisbon bit back a moan and said, “Well, if you want me that much, stop playing games and show me what you can do.”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane’s gaze was soft, his features illuminated by the small bedside lamp that was still burning, and she heard him clearly over the sound of the rain as he said, “No, don’t worry. I’m planning on finishing this. I just need you to know I would never use you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: what if I wrote a fun fanfic about Jane seducing Lisbon?  
> Also me: yeah, that's nice but make it angsty.
> 
> Also, since I haven't mentioned this yet, the story is set somewhere toward the end of s4.

And Jane did as she asked.

He raised his right hand very slowly, running his index finger up the buttons on Lisbon’s shirt, before flicking open the first one, then another one, taking his time. His left hand was braced against the wall next to Lisbon’s head, keeping her trapped. While he was working open each button, his eyes never left hers, watching every micro-expression she displayed, and he stared at her so intensely, so full of lust that Lisbon felt more trapped by his unrelenting gaze than she felt trapped by his body.

Once Jane was finished, Lisbon raised her trembling hands to undress him too, but he caught her wrist and whispered, “No,” his voice hoarse as if he had been screaming for hours.

Lisbon felt confused and suddenly uncomfortably exposed in her unbuttoned shirt when he was still fully dressed, even though the wet fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination. “No?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

“Teresa,” he said softly, and dropped to his knees in front of her. “I’m still not done seducing you.”

Then he pressed his lips against the exposed skin of her stomach, and Lisbon didn’t mind her state of undress so much anymore. He did it slowly, softly, determined to kiss every inch of her and it was driving her crazy. She felt like drowning; she felt like she would soon die of thirst. He carefully held her in place, both hands on her hips, and she braced herself against the wall behind her, wanting him to move lower, to stop this torture. No one before had made her feel like this, had made her want something so much, and he had to feel what this was doing to her, how he made her quiver, how he made her breath hitch when he sucked on the soft skin of her stomach.

“Why are you torturing me like this?” she finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.

“I haven’t even started yet,” was his mumbled reply.

Then he let his hand wander up her side and brushed his thumb over her still clothed nipple – it almost felt like an accident, but Lisbon knew it wasn’t – and a small moan escaped her at the touch. The sound made Jane stop and look up at her smugly, and Lisbon had to swallow at the sight of him like this.

His voice was different from how it had sounded at the bar, from how it had sounded every time he had tried to seduce her. It wasn’t low anymore, it was soft and quiet, almost inaudible over the sound of the rain, but there was also a hoarseness to it, an edge that made Lisbon shudder.

“Say it.”

It was just two words but hearing him say them in this voice shut down Lisbon’s brain. He could have said anything to her sounding like that and she would have been unable to resist him.

She closed her eyes briefly before replying, “Say what?”

She found herself unable to form a coherent thought. Whatever it was he wanted her to say, she needed more information than that. Jane, however, thought she was teasing him again, and stood up. With a quiet hum, he started kissing her neck carefully, much as he had kissed her stomach, one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck so he could move her head in whatever direction suited him best. But this was getting to him as much as it was getting to her, he couldn’t pretend any longer. Lisbon noticed this first when his kisses grew firmer, then faster, until he finally bit down on her skin and she gasped loudly, her eyes flying open.

As a response Jane pushed her against the wall, both hands on her hips. Then his mouth was next to her ear and he repeated, “Say it,” in a low rumble before nipping at the skin of her neck again.

“Jane,” Lisbon breathed, “if you leave a mark, I swear to God …”

But both of them would never learn what she would do to him because he suddenly pushed her up against the wall, so she was fully trapped, pressing up against her, and she could feel the evidence of how much he wanted this – wanted her – against her leg. They were both panting, his forehead was pressed to hers, and she finally allowed herself to touch him, bracing a hand against his heaving chest.

When he said it again, a third time, it sounded so dark and pleading, it was so much, too much, and Lisbon couldn’t take it any longer, so she leaned back her head, separating their faces, and looked directly into his blue eyes.

“I want you, Patrick.”

She felt his hand on the hem of her trousers, fumbling with her belt, then with the button and zipper, fast, expertly, and it didn’t take him long to achieve his goal. He pushed his hand inside, running it over the fabric of her underwear, and it was so unexpected, to quick all of a sudden, that Lisbon moaned in surprise, her hands gripping Jane’s arms. After an eternity of teasing her, it seemed Jane didn’t want to hold back any longer. His fingers were moving slowly, and she knew he could feel how much she wanted him, and it only encouraged him. With his other hand, he tried to unhook her bra, his nails scraping against her back, looking for a clasp.

“It opens in the front,” she whispered breathlessly, a light laughter in her voice.

He growled and unhooked it with nimble fingers, and then his mouth was on her nipple and the laughter died in her throat. All that mattered was his swirling tongue, his nipping teeth, making her forget everything, even her own name. Had she known his mouth could do that, she wouldn’t have wasted years trying to ignore her feelings for him. He was still stroking her slowly while setting her on fire with his tongue and it wasn’t enough, she wanted more, so she pushed her hips forward impatiently. As a response he bit down hard on her nipple, adding pain to pleasure, but she only moved her hips again.

“I’m setting the pace,” he reminded her, his breath ghosting over her nipple.

Lisbon sighed. “You won’t have to set it for much longer.”

This made him pause and straighten his back. He pulled his hand out of her trousers, making her squirm impatiently, and then he just looked at her, his eyes low and dark. “That good?” he asked, and if Lisbon’s brain hadn’t been entirely grounded in the present, her thoughts would have wandered back to the massage he had given her when he had asked her the same.

“Yes,” she replied seriously.

There was no use in teasing him anymore; she wanted him to know how good he made her feel. It was unbelievable, really – they were still wearing most of their clothes and yet she was already so close it wouldn’t have taken much more to push her over the edge. This simple three-letter word was also finally enough to make Jane pause. The look in his eyes changed from lust to wonder, and before she knew what was happening, his hand was cupping her cheek and his lips were on hers.

It was everything she had ever wanted; her entire life, her entire existence on this planet was reduced to Jane’s lips on hers caressing her, claiming her, coaxing her. He tasted of cheap soda and spearmint chewing gum and of Jane. She couldn’t explain it, but there was a taste that was so uniquely him, a taste she couldn’t quite pin down or describe in words, but she had always known he would taste like this. She kissed him back, her hands coming up to grip his wet curls, trying to savor as much of him as possible, to soak him in, to memorize this. Jane grabbed her thigh and lifted it, so her leg slung around his hip, deepening the kiss while he did so. Lisbon bit down on his bottom lip possessively, which caused him to push forward, to grind against her.

He froze.

Lisbon could tell he was surprised by his own actions, unsure for the first time. So she did it again, sucked his bottom lip in between her teeth and bit down, and he started to move again, to grind against her, which made her feel light-headed, drunk, intoxicated. She held onto him, marveling at him losing control like that, astonished he would let go.

But the moment passed quickly. Jane regained his self-control and let go of her leg. Before Lisbon could complain, his lips were on hers again, kissing her desperately, hungrily, and then his hand was skimming the waistband of her underwear. She sucked in a surprised breath, which made Jane chuckle, and when he pushed past the waistband, Lisbon tangled her hands in his shirt, tugging at the fabric, scraping his arms.

Then he touched her, and Lisbon moaned so loudly she was sure the other people in the motel had heard. It was a primal sound, one no other man had ever invoked in her, and by the way Jane’s muscles shifted beneath her grip she was sure he knew. He began to tease her, to stroke her softly, and she shivered, pushed towards him, holding on for dear life. Two of his fingers came to rest at the apex of her thighs, pushing softly, but not giving her the release she craved. Instead, he let them hover there, waiting for something, and she tensed up, strained like a bowstring.

“Do you want me to show you what my fingers can do?”

She groaned, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and he captured her lips again, and finally pushed his fingers inside of her. She jerked forward, biting down on his bottom lip. It was as if everything they had done during the last few weeks had been leading up to this moment. Lisbon was on fire; her skin, her thoughts, her breath, everything was steam and heat, scorching her and Jane. Jane moaned at the sensation of his fingers buried inside of her, and it was the first time she heard him make a sound like this, low, carnal, as he pulled his fingers back out and pushed inside a second time, then a third, fourth, fifth, curling them slightly with each thrust.

Lisbon was so engulfed in what Jane was doing to her, it took her a moment to realize he was not letting his other hand stand idly by. He cupped one of her breasts, playing with it, while the thumb on his other hand touched her where she had wanted to be touched most ever since he had told her he wanted her, and it was too much. She couldn’t hold on any longer and came undone, gasping for air, waves upon waves of pleasure rippling through her. Jane stilled, held her, and when she looked up, she saw he was watching her intently, like he was filing every second of this away in his memory palace. Lisbon had just had one of the best orgasms of her life but seeing his eyes on her like that sent another bolt of arousal through her. She had always known he would be like this, would like to watch her come undone and know he was responsible for it, and she had feared she wouldn’t like it, but now she had to discover she was craving it, wanted him to look at her like this again and again.

They didn’t break eye contact as Jane pulled his fingers out of her and proceeded to finally push her shirt off her shoulders. She stepped out of her trousers, while he kicked off his shoes, then did the same. Lisbon was finally allowed to unbutton his shirt, but she didn’t take her time, like he had done, instead hurried, tearing at the buttons impatiently. They didn’t need any words to tell the other what they should be doing, they were communicating with touches and glances, and it felt so natural, an extension of how they usually were around each other.

Somehow, Lisbon wasn’t entirely sure how, they ended up on the bed, her back pressing down against the bedspread, Jane on top of her, stroking her sides, her breasts, any part of her he could reach. Lisbon arched her back, pressing up into his touch, urging him on, but then he suddenly stopped, and told her to stop too in his normal voice, the one he always used when he talked to her.

A familiar feeling of dread settled on Lisbon as she tried to decipher what she had done wrong. She tensed and asked, a note of panic in her voice, “What’s the matter?”

Jane’s gaze was soft, his features illuminated by the small bedside lamp that was still burning, and she heard him clearly over the sound of the rain as he said, “No, don’t worry. I’m planning on finishing this. I just need you to know I would never use you.”

Lisbon sighed and it sounded almost like a sob. “I know,” she told him, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He leaned into her touch briefly but then shook his head. “No, you don’t. You mean the world to me, Teresa.”

Then he kissed her very softly and it felt like a first kiss, even though they had already exchanged countless others this evening. She tried to relax, rolling his words around in her mind, beginning to understand, a small flame of hope igniting in her chest. But any doubts, fears or hopes were quickly pushed aside when he moved lower, kissing her neck, her collarbones, the hollow of her throat, her breasts, her stomach, his hands meanwhile drawing patterns on her legs, brushing along the insides of her thighs, until she was panting again, gasping for air.

“Patrick, please,” she breathed, and it was merely a whimper.

But he heard her. He pushed into her very slowly and she couldn’t help but moan a word that sounded suspiciously like his name. He slowly began to move, thrusting his hips at a steady but languid pace, while she covered his necks in kisses, exhaling small, encouraging moans. Then she lay back down, deciding it was her turn to watch him. He returned her gaze with so much love and openness, she only wanted him more, her whole body aching for his touch, aching for him to let her make him feel as good as he he had made her.

For the first time in her life, Lisbon understood why it was called _making love_.

With a sigh, Jane buried his face in her neck and nipped at her skin, groaning quietly. She didn’t reprimand him again because she had to realize she wouldn’t mind a mark there to remind her of what they had done. He wanted her to be his, she knew that, even if he himself didn’t know, or if he couldn’t find the right words to say it yet. But she had seen it in the way he looked at her, could feel it in his movements, in the weight of his body on hers, his skin scraping against her own, their mingled breaths full of want and promises. She finally understood what he had meant when he had said he wouldn’t be able to stop once they started.

His thrusts were harder and faster now, and Lisbon could feel herself hurtling toward the edge again. She closed her eyes, absorbed in the feeling of him inside of her, making her feel like this, when she heard his voice, the one that could ask anything of her, and she would comply.

“Look at me.”

She forced herself to look at him, even though she knew it would be too intense, but she wanted him to see and wanted to see him as she came a second time, her body arching up into his, but his gaze pinning her down. She had no idea what he saw in her beneath him like this, but suddenly there was a low, dangerous, animalistic growl around them as he thrust into her hard and fast, making Lisbon cry out in pleasure. She slung her legs around his back, moaning, meeting his thrusts, until he finally let go, collapsing on top of her.

Lisbon let her hands run down his back. “Jane?” she asked softly when he showed no intention of moving.

He hummed so she could feel the vibrations of it against her chest. Then, with a deep sigh, he rolled over to his side and stared at the ceiling.

“Jane?” Lisbon repeated, hating how worried she sounded. What if Jane would regret what they had just done? He had regretted agreeing to seduce her, so why not this too?

He pulled her close, so she was lying partially on top of him and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. Lisbon relaxed against him, draping an arm across his chest, not caring that everything felt sticky. Outside, the rain continued to fall, but it was quieter now, just as Lisbon felt more at peace.

“I just need a moment,” Jane mumbled finally.

“That good?” Lisbon said in a teasing voice, lifting her head so she could look at him.

A flush spread across Jane’s cheeks and at seeing it, she couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him softly. He kissed her back, his eyes closed, a mixture of relief and pain on his face.

“Jane, what’s the matter?” she asked softly.

Jane sighed again and stroked her hair, once, twice before answering, “You got what you wanted.”

Lisbon swallowed around a lump that was suddenly forming in her throat, still on a high from what they had done, but coming down to earth quickly, a confusing mixture of feelings pulling her in different directions.

“Didn’t you want this?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, “but I don’t think we want the same to come out of this.”

She kissed him again, desperate to not let him see the disappointment in her face. “What do you want?” she asked him, steeling herself for the answer, preparing herself to live with whatever decision he would make.

Jane huffed. “I can’t expect anything of you, I know it’s not fair, and it’s not what you want, but if circumstances were different, if Red John wasn’t still out there, I would …” He didn’t finish the sentence, just shrugged.

“You would what?” Lisbon whispered and buried her face in his neck, trying to be as close to him as she could while he still let her.

“I wanted you to win the bet,” Jane continued. “I thought you would want to win too. It had never occurred to me you would actually like to be seduced by me, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.”

“Because you think you’re irresistible?” Lisbon teased him.

Jane squeezed her arm. “No, because you don’t like being in a relationship. You like having your freedom, and sometimes, when you feel like it, some fun. And that’s fine, that’s normal, there’s nothing wrong with that. You thought it would be fun to play this game with me for a little while and then just move on with your life.”

Lisbon felt tears well up in her eyes. “That’s not fair.”

Jane continued without acknowledging what she had said. “I thought I would be okay with it. But the closer I got to you, the harder it became for me to ignore these feelings you invoke in me, and I knew that if I ever acted on them, I wouldn’t be able to go back to seeing you as just a friend.”

“Can I say something?” Lisbon asked.

“In a minute,” he told her softly. “I want you to understand that I didn’t come here this evening because I wanted to have fun but meaningless sex with you. I came here because I couldn’t stand you not knowing how I felt any longer. I just wanted to talk to you, explain why I acted the way I did, and ask you to forgive me. I didn’t expect you would let me in again, and I definitely didn’t expect you would …” He made a vague gesture at her.

“So you regret it?” Lisbon asked in a cold tone of voice.

“No, not a single moment,” Jane said quickly. “If I had to do it all again, I would. I just want you to know why this might be difficult for me.”

“Has it ever occurred to ask me how I feel?” Lisbon continued. “You think you know everything, but you could have just told me all of that from the start and I –”

Jane laughed a short, loud laugh that made Lisbon sit up. “That would have been a fun conversation. ‘Hey, Lisbon, guess what. I’m in love with you’.”

“You’re what?”

“Yeah, that’s what you would have said, then you would have rolled your eyes and walked away with that annoyed walk you always do when I get on your nerves.” Jane looked at her, a sad smile on his face.

Lisbon couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; she felt them running down her cheeks. Everything came crushing down on her at once: being so close to Jane, his confession, her own conflicting feelings, her fear of losing him, and her hopes for a future together. Jane didn’t hesitate for a single second but pulled her against his chest, making soothing noises, holding her close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I’m putting this on you. You deserve so much better than this. Than me. I cannot offer you anything, least of all the life you deserve.”

“Shut up!” Lisbon sobbed and he did. “How can you say all these things and actually believe them? How can you stand there and assume this doesn’t mean anything to me when it means _everything_?”

She had sensed they would have to talk about this sooner or later, but that it would happen in a shabby motel in southern California during a heavy rainstorm after the most amazing sex of her life hadn’t occurred to her.

“Teresa,” Jane said carefully, “you don’t have to –”

“I don’t have to what?” she challenged, still pressed against his chest. “Tell you I feel the same, have been feeling the same for quite some time now? Tell you I couldn’t care less about whether you think I deserve someone better when all I want is you? Because if you were about to suggest we should go back to pretending we’re just friends after you …,” she hesitated, “after you made love to me like that, then I’m leaving right this minute and we’re done, forever.”

Jane moved and before she knew what was happening, his lips had found hers. The way he kissed her made all the kisses they had shared so far seem meaningless and trivial. He put everything into the kiss he couldn’t tell her yet, and she, in turn, was determined to prove to him that her confession hadn’t just been empty words.

“I cannot promise you anything,” Jane said softly as they broke apart, resting his forehead against hers.

“I know,” Lisbon replied, her heart racing with longing and hope, dizzy with the possibility of what they were about to commit to.

“The day might come when I … when Red John kills me,” he continued, a heaviness in his voice, “or I kill him.”

She knew this and she hated it. But if this was the path he wanted to go down on, she would be there for him as best as she could. “I know,” she repeated.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course not.” Lisbon’s voice was steady and calm, her lips tasting of salt. She knew he would accept whatever she said next. If she told him to leave, he would do it. If she told him to stay until morning, he would do it. But if she told him he should stop his pursuit of revenge, he would choose Red John over her. It was the deal she was willing to make to keep him close.

“I will never be okay with you putting yourself in danger like that. I will never be okay with you pursuing this, knowing full well it might be the death of you. But I’m willing to accept it. And I will do anything I can to help you. And to make sure you get out of it alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be finishing Big Blue and Red Road, but I have to get this story out of my system first.


End file.
